


What He Cannot Give

by deathwailart



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Angst, Dwarves, Established Relationship, M/M, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 04:59:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are things he cannot give Bilbo for they are not his to give.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What He Cannot Give

There are things he cannot give Bilbo for they are not his to give. He cannot give him Khuzdul for it is a secret language that is only for the ears of dwarves, not spoken in front of outsiders. He knows Bilbo hears it, mostly from Bifur who can only communicate in their ancient tongue after the accident they do not speak of and because they all murmur to one another in it, a guttural tongue carried on the wind. To his credit Bilbo does not ask – he only asks in the context of Bifur or what symbols cut into axes or emblazoned upon clothes and hilts mean. Perhaps it is breaking some halfling propriety to enquire further. Thorin cannot give him iglishmek either. Fluttering hands and fingers, jokes between one another or commands when words cannot be risked. There is always a swell of pride when he watches the hands of his nephews moving back and forth for they have learned so much, growing up in Ered Luin as they did with just old relics and remnants, princes in exile who now follow him to a home they have never known.  
  
He cannot give Bilbo his true name. It is a name he last heard when meeting with Dain and the others, the name he will take to his grave with him for this is the name for outsiders, those who are not of his blood or his people. Bilbo travels with Thorin but at the same time he does not for that is not the name Thorin is called by his sister or nephews beneath the walls of their house in Ered Luin. It is not the name he will be called when he is crowned king when it is only dwarven company. It is not the name his nephews called when they were very little and wanted to tag along after their uncle when he went to the forge or the training yard.  
  
He cannot give Bilbo his heart for his heart is no longer what it once was and it must be divided amongst too many others. He is a king without a mountain but still a king and so his heart must be for his people, for his nephews who are his heirs and need their uncle and his sister for she has survived as much as he has, has lost grandfather, father and brother and perhaps she has lost both brothers for he is not who he was. What love Thorin has he has given as freely as he can with those who are entitled to it. He has given it to Balin and Dwalin who remember him as he was, who have lost their homes and a father, who have known desolation then destruction.  
  
Bilbo will not understand the things inked into the skin of so many of the party and he wonders what the halfling must think of the tattoos that adorn their flesh. The ink tells a story that any can read at a glance – if he had not been with Dwalin for many battles or heard of them then he would know his deeds from the lines on his skin. He would know him to have lost a home from what is marked upon his skull. He does not discuss it with Bilbo though he hears others enquiring as to tattoos, Bilbo laughing nervously, launching into stories of this name and that name, silly drunken mistakes. It makes some of them tut, thinking it dismissal but Thorin knows better for he has felt Bilbo's slender fingers tracing bands and lines and runes with tenderness. He only does it when he thinks Thorin to be asleep beneath blankets they now share. Thorin is content to give him that. He has no desire to hurt the halfling by refusing to explain for all the personal questions Bilbo has about dwarves and their ways come at night, the things he thinks too personal to ask Balin or Bofur or Thorin's nephews.  
  
There is that much and no doubt more he does not think of so what he _can_ give he gives freely (now it has been earned in the same moment Bilbo earned his place among them) and without regret. He tells himself it is enough for Bilbo is not a dwarf and does not have the same all-consuming greed for what can be considered his.  
  
He can give him treasure. He can give him what love there is to be given. He can give his body, his rare laughs, the odd smile and quiet notes plucked out on a golden harp. He can give him histories and stories of days gone by. But it will never be equal. Bilbo gives him honesty – not entirely, there are shades of truth, little flickers here and there of that which he holds back or talks his way around but he does not hold back when asked of his home. He speaks of the Shire and ever will Thorin remember those words spoken when Bilbo reappeared, not long before he charged and saved Thorin's life. An honesty that disarmed him utterly and wargs were almost welcome if only to cover the fact that he felt as though he had been kicked hard in the gut. It is foolish to allow this to continue and they all know it though he can tell that they do not begrudge him what happiness he has found. Balin, never Dwalin, Dwalin too wild and enamoured with being a warrior, once urged Thorin to find a wife, to try for heirs even after Dís brought Fíli then Kíli into the world, thinking that it might settle him. And once, in the days before Smaug, there had been real thoughts on Thorin's part to continuing the line but he was no longer the prince he was nor the prince or king he might have been. He has lavished love upon his nephews and sister, even on the days when the shock of battle wrapped around his chest like bands of iron or when grief blackened all he looked upon. They are his happiness and his joy. It is for them that he does this too, for the halls that should have rung with their laughter the way it did when Thorin, Frerin and Dís were young. He will reclaim home and pride and gold for all of them and will reclaim himself too, cast off grief and guilt and finally, _finally_ feel that he has done honourably by their people.  
  
But still he knows a day will come when he will have to end it. For Bilbo has a home, rolling green hills and his pantry, his books, his armchair and that is why Bilbo is helping them, marching along with thirteen dwarves that wish to reclaim their home. Bilbo who has known softness and comfort all his days. Bilbo who will trot off at the end of this quest – should they reach it for the road is long and hard, fraught with peril – with his share of the treasure to his home as Thorin starts to rebuild his.  
  
Thorin takes more than he can give but he knows what it is to live in a place that is not his own, to long for a loved place with a ferocity that could rival a dragon's strength and in the reclaiming of his home he will not deny Bilbo his. Not even a dwarf could be so greedy.


End file.
